by Vivian Arend
Luke snickered, far too amused for someone whose life expectancy was not much more than his next breath. “That’s not the reputation we want bandied around about the Stone boys. Goes against our name.” He gave a lewd wink.
Caleb shook his head as he wandered away, tossing over his shoulder. “You guys are a bunch of teenagers.”
“That’s the point. We’re not, but right about now, you probably are,” Luke teased.
“Stop slacking off,” Dustin shouted from the far side of the arena.
Caleb ignored the lot of them as he grabbed a saddle and headed to work. He kept an eye on his watch, though, and made sure he was back inside the house in plenty of time to be cleaned up and ready to help before supper was on the table.
He pulled on clean jeans and a dark T-shirt, dragged a comb through his hair and called it done, hurrying in case there were any more temper-tantrum emergencies to deal with.
Instead, peaceful quiet greeted him as he left his room, the low murmur of country music growing louder as he entered the great room. The table was set and the most amazing smells floated on the air. He double-checked to be certain, but Sasha was in the room, playing a board game with Emma as they sat on the floor in front of the unlit fireplace. Tamara sat at the island, cookbooks and paper at hand as she wrote. A new calendar on the fridge held a bunch of bright notes written in a bold hand, and there were more cookies cooling on racks on the counter.
Caleb didn’t say a word for fear there was some magic at work, and talking about the serene situation would break the spell.
Not only were the girls in their right minds, the room felt cozy. Plus, he wasn’t about to regret there was food on the table he hadn’t put together.
He closed his eyes and took a deep, appreciative breath. “I swear it smells better when somebody else cooks.”
“Daddy!” Sasha scrambled to her feet.
Both girls came running to greet him, and he had to admit there was something soul-satisfying about the happiness on their faces and the tight squeeze of their hugs. He wasn’t a perfect father, but they seemed pleased enough with him, most times.
Tamara had risen as well, and she motioned toward the table. “You ready to sit right away, or you want a drink first?”
“I could eat.”
He and the girls were halfway to the table when there was a brief knock at the kitchen door. An instant later it swung open, and Dustin poked his head in and smiled. His brother’s face was heck of a lot cleaner than it had been a half hour ago when he could’ve sworn the kid had been rolling in the mud.
“Am I in the right place?” He stepped inside, basket in hand. He held it in Tamara’s direction. “Fresh bread. JP sent these for you.”
Tamara pulled the basket from him, motioning him toward the table. “Take off your boots then sit,” she said. “You’re right on time.”
Caleb counted quickly and realized the table was set for five. “You didn’t say you were joining us for dinner.”
“Tamara invited me when I stopped by earlier.” Dustin stepped out of his boots, lining them up on the mat beside the door. He stopped to wash his hands before moving toward the table, ruffling the girls’ hair before dropping into the chair next to Sasha. “And we were working. I didn’t want to interrupt since I figured I’d see you soon enough.” He grinned at Tamara. “Man, it smells like heaven.”
A tray filled with ribs settled on the table in front of Caleb, and there was no time for him to complain about not knowing what was going on in his own home.
Although he knew damn well one thing that was going on that wasn’t going to continue for much longer—if Dustin thought he could flirt with Tamara, hell no for so many reasons.
Tamara placed the rest of the food in front of him. She’d stacked all their plates there as well, and when she sat to his right, he hesitated. Especially after she picked up the water pitcher and began pouring for everybody.
A flashback to an earlier time struck hard—Wendy in that same position. Her blonde hair pulled back, face tight. Silent as the girls babbled and Dustin, Ginny and Dare teased each other.
Tamara’s expression shifted to worry. “This is right, isn’t it? The table setup?”
He hurried to assure her, the tightness in his gut uncomfortable even as she waited for his answer. “Family ritual,” he explained putting a scoop of everything on the first plate. He hesitated, then placed it in front of her. “I don’t even remember when it started, but my dad used to serve everyone. When they passed on, I kept up the tradition.”
Dustin lost his smile, thoughtfulness drifting over his expression as he met Caleb’s eyes. “We needed that bit of sameness during the mess of them being gone.” He glanced over to Tamara. “I was too little to remember all the details, but my guess is with seven at the table some days, and eleven when Dare’s family joined us, it was the only way to make sure everybody got some food from the pot.”
Caleb had kept serving while Dustin talked. Sasha glanced at him as she passed him a full plate, as if realizing something for the first time “You were as big as I am now, when grandma and grandpa died.”
Dustin nodded once.
“I’m not too little to remember things. And neither is Emma. We remember lots of things.”
Her lips twisted stubbornly, and Caleb had to laugh. “Yes, pumpkin, you remember lots of things. I think what Uncle Dustin’s saying is he’s gotten so old he’s forgotten what it’s like to be seven and nine like you and Emma.”
Emma poked Sasha and did something under the table with her fingers, then for some strange reason, they both glanced at Tamara before Sasha gave him a pointed glare.
“Emma’s seven and a half,” Sasha reminded him sternly.
Everyone had food and drink, and conversation turned to memories and whether they were more like a TV show or a framed picture, and slowly that sense of being watched by a ghost diminished enough Caleb could take a deep breath and push past it.
The food helped. He sank his teeth into another bite of barbecued ribs and sighed happily.
Next to him, Tamara chuckled. “What would you have done if I hadn’t known how to cook? You never asked.”
“The fact he’s on his third helping means he knows how lucky he is,” Dustin teased, even as he held his plate forward. “I’m lucky too. A few more?”
“Fourth serving,” Caleb pointed out, but he slid the last of the ribs to his brother’s plate.
Dinner done, Dustin took over the dishes again, this time with Sasha drying and Emma putting away.
Tamara motioned to Caleb. “I figured out the washing machine, so if you’ve got clothes you want me to do tomorrow—”
“I’ll do my own wash,” Caleb interrupted.
She folded her arms. “My job, remember?” They stared at each other for a moment before she gave in. “Whatever. If it’s in the laundry room, it’ll get washed. Up to you. You’re a big boy, and I have other battles to fight.”
His gaze drifted to his daughters. “Thanks for taking on the battle. You okay with how things went today?”
Tamara nodded. “Pretty much. Can we chat after the girls are in bed?”
He agreed, then they went different directions for a bit, the evening slipping away until the tooth brushing and other nighttime rituals began.
The quiet time while he tucked the girls in had always been when secrets and questions were shared. Sometimes because they were pushing to stay up late, sometimes he knew it was because the world was buzzing in their brains too fast to be ignored.
Tonight was bound to be a doozey.
He pulled the quilt over Sasha, then reached to turn out the light.
Sure enough, she bounced upright like a rubber ball.
“Is she really going to stay?” Sasha demanded.
Caleb took a deep breath as he settled on the edge of the bed beside her. “Was it nice to get to have supper together tonight?”
Sasha frowned. “We have supper together most nights. I don’t see
why she has to be here.”
Speaking carefully, he worked around the problem best he could. “Sometimes Daddy hires new people to come help out when we’ve got a tough job to do, right? Tamara is another worker on the ranch.”
She looked him over suspiciously.
“Pumpkin, I know it’s not easy having your aunties gone, but because they’re big enough to do the next thing in their lives, that means you have to be big enough, too.”
“But I don’t like her,” Sasha complained. “We don’t need a nanny at all. We can take care of things on our own. I promise, Daddy.”
Caleb shook his head. “This afternoon, after enjoying a cookie fresh from the oven, I got to go back outside and help your uncles work with the new horses. If Tamara hadn’t been here to get supper ready and help you with your homework, then I would have had to stay inside. That means the guys would have been doing extra work for me. I don’t think that’s fair.”
Sasha made a face.
“Would you like it if you had to do all Emma’s chores?”
She shook her head.
Caleb thought it over. “I know it’s not exactly the same thing, and your uncles would never complain, but I feel responsible to do my share. And I don’t want to have things not get done, whether that’s with the ranch, or with you and Emma. Remember I missed signing you up for swimming lessons because I forgot?”
He was almost scared to bring that one up considering the number of tears his mistake had generated.
Sasha folded her lips into a frown “I don’t need swimming lessons. And I don’t need extra treats, I want you, Daddy. And Emma wants—” She snapped her lips shut, hesitating for a second before continuing, “I think Emma feels the same.”
Caleb took another breath. “This is something you’ll just have to be sad about, pumpkin, because I’m the grownup. I need help, and Tamara is who I’ve hired.”
Sasha’s lips quivered for a second, but this time it was honest emotion instead of a warmup to dramatic effect.
Then she said something so quietly he had to lean in. “Say that again?”
“What if she leaves?” she whispered.
Like a knife stab into his gut. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, and he wished again he’d been smarter, somewhere along the line, even though he had no idea what that would have looked like. Wished he’d have protected his little girls from the hurt they’d experienced.
“I can’t promise she’ll stay forever, pumpkin. But when someone takes on a job, they make a promise to do their best and work hard at it for a period of time. Tamara said she’d stay for six months for sure. That’s where we’re starting.”
“That’s not what I mean, Daddy.” Sasha was barely audible, his usually boisterous child’s voice tight with tears. “What if… What if we don’t want her to go, but she doesn’t like us, so she leaves anyway?”
My god. Most of the time he managed to keep from feeling anything at all about his ex-wife, but a moment like this he lost all charity possible and wished he could rip Wendy in two.
No way in hell did he want his children thinking Tamara would only stay if they were angels. He didn’t want them to think their behaviour could chase her away.
He willed himself calm before he spoke.
“We’re getting a little ahead of ourselves,” he said. “Let’s worry about settling into a routine so we all know who’s doing what. That’s the first thing. Then maybe we can have a few less tears during homework time.”
She looked suitably guilty before accepting his kiss and curling up under the covers. “Yes, Daddy.”
Tucking in Emma was easier, only because she didn’t say all the things that would break his heart, but the questions were there in her eyes.
He curled his arms around her, perched on the edge of her tiny bed.
Everyone from the teachers at school to the family psychiatrist they’d been forced to visit were worried about her speech habits, but she spoke just fine. Oh, maybe not a mess of words, but she talked. When she had something to say, she’d say it, that’s what he’d found.
Caleb tucked his fingers under Emma’s chin and lifted until she looked up at him. “I know you miss your aunties, but I think Tamara’s a good person. Auntie Dare recommended her, and you know she wouldn’t do that if she didn’t think Tamara was pretty special.”
Emma dipped her chin, suspicion and worry on her face, but her concerns lay in a whole different direction. “Sasha’s sad,” she whispered.
“Sasha likes to worry,” he pointed out. “But again, do you think your Auntie Dare would send someone here who can’t handle Sasha? I mean in a good way. Like who’d enjoy spending time with Sasha, and with you?”
Her head twisted from side to side.
“Did you finish the picture you were drawing earlier?” he asked.
Emma shook her head.
“Well, then, tomorrow you work on that. I’d love to see it when it’s done.”
“Daddy?” Sweet and soft.
“Yes, button?”
She clung to him like a limpet for a moment before putting her lips right beside his ear and barely breathing out the words. “I love you.”
His chest tightened. “I love you too. Very, very much.”
Emma slid under the covers, popping up once to straighten the book on her side table before lying back and closing her eyes. She looked like a porcelain doll, pristine and perfect, and as usual, he stared at her for a moment wondering why the way she slept made him feel so uncomfortable.
That uneasy sensation only continued as he wandered back to the living room to discover Dustin was still in the house, chatting with Tamara. She sat in the corner of the couch, laughing at something his brother had said. Dustin was perched on the edge of the coffee table across from her, his gaze fixed on her face, hands on his knees as he leaned in.
Screw this. Caleb walked between them en route to his chair, forcing Dustin to sit back.
His younger brother stood abruptly. “I guess I should be going. Thanks for the dinner invite. It was really good.”
“You’re welcome anytime,” Tamara told him, smiling before shifting position. She lifted her feet to the couch and leaned back, making herself at home.
Dustin waved at Caleb then headed to the door.
“Don’t be late tomorrow morning,” Caleb ordered.
“I hear old people need lots of sleep,” Dustin quipped back. “You’d better go to bed soon or you’ll be the one who’s late.”
Cocky bastard slipped out the door before Caleb could find something to throw.
Tamara laughed. “Little siblings are annoying.”
“Yes.”
She wrapped her hands around her knees, pulling upright and changing the topic. “You caught the little cryfest of Sasha’s today?”
Seemed they were going to dive right in and talk. Caleb straightened up and adjusted his mindset. “She was faking it. I figure you knew that, but just so you know, I knew it too. But she is worried.”
“She’s got a stranger in her house. I don’t blame her.” Tamara hesitated. “I told her she’s not allowed to answer for Emma. That’s what set her off.”
Oh. Caleb let that rattle around in his brain. “I see.”
“I’m not going to force Emma to talk,” Tamara rushed on. “But if everyone answers for her then—”
“You don’t need to explain.” Another wave of frustration hit him hard. He was so stupid. He should have thought of that earlier. Not that he wanted to push Emma to talk more, but in a way, it was lazy of them to have let Sasha run wild.
Tamara was examining him closely. “Is that a ‘you don’t need to explain because you’re right’, or because you think I’m wrong? You need to give me a few more clues, because I can’t read your expression.”
He sighed. “You’re right.”
Her head tilted, concern skittering across her face. “You okay?”
Caleb shoved aside his worries and nodded, trying to look more
cheerful. He was afraid it probably looked as if he was constipated, but what the hell. It was the best he could do. “How about you? Other than the crying, how was your first day? You okay so far?”
She eyed him for a moment as if she might challenge his rapid change of topic. Then a soft sigh escaped and she eased back on the couch. “Pretty good. I’ll ask if I have troubles.”
Tamara pulled a notebook off the table and began writing. Silence fell, the conversation ended as abruptly as it had begun.
Caleb took a book from the basket beside his chair and tried to get into it, but having another person in the room…
Be honest. Having another person in the room who wasn’t one of his brothers, or his best friend Josiah Ryder, was potent.
He was aware of every move she made.
The top of her pen worked in smooth motions, a little crease forming between her brows as she concentrated on her task. Her legs were bent halfway, tilted against the couch, her notebook balanced in her lap.
He alternated between trying to read his book and letting his gaze slide over the blurry words back to her body.
She’d taken the elastic from her hair and the heavy dark-brown mass held a hint of a curl as it lay over her shoulders. As if she’d been in the sun for a while, her cheeks had a rosy hew, lips soft and shiny. Her shirt clung to the curve of her breasts, shifting with every breath.
For some stupid reason his eyes kept being drawn to her feet. She was wrapped up from head to toe in jeans and flannel, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the fuzzy socks she wore.
They were white with pink polka dots, and they matched her glasses. She rubbed her feet together, and suddenly everything inside him was tight for a whole new reason.
Damn it, he was turned on as if he’d been watching porn, and all she’d done was innocently wiggle.
When she pulled the throw off the back of the couch, he finally got it. “Cold?”
She shook herself, as if surprised to see him in the easy chair. “A little. This time of year it’s tough to know from one minute to the next what the temperature’s going to be.”
